


Caramel Latte

by darkbluebox



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Comedy, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkbluebox/pseuds/darkbluebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi isn't good with people. </p>
<p>His favourite barista is no better. </p>
<p>Naturally, any interaction between them is probably doomed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caramel Latte

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackSoulStar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSoulStar/gifts), [TheAnimeZankyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnimeZankyou/gifts).



> Potentially triggering content - please check the tags.  
> Otherwise, enjoy reading!

“So which one is he?” Yachi stood on her tiptoes and peered through the shoulders of the customers queuing ahead of them. The girl in front of them turned suddenly, nearly elbowing her in the head, and Yachi jumped back with a squeak.

 

“Ssh!” Yamaguchi glanced nervously around the bustling café. Every table was occupied, mostly with other students, chatting and laughing with their friends or with their heads bent over laptops, surrounded by textbooks and papers. On the other side of the counter staff bustled back and forth between the ever-growing line of customers and the whirring coffee machine which threw warm clouds of steam into the air. Everyone was too busy with their own lives to take notice of the pair’s conversation, but that didn’t make Yamaguchi any less nervous. “I don’t even know if he’s in right now. His shifts might have changed.”

 

Yachi giggled. “This is exciting, isn’t it? You hardly ever get crushes on people!”

 

“That’s – That’s not true!” Yamaguchi stammered. Maybe not _often_ , but it wasn’t like it was _that_ unusual. All the same, Yachi had a point. He didn’t like people in _that_ way very often, and it was even rarer for him to tell anyone about it, let alone admit it to himself. Crushes were awkward, uncomfortable experiences that Yamaguchi tried to avoid on principle. Talking to people was hard enough as it was. His tongue stopped listening to his mind and ran wild, and that was just talking to strangers that Yamaguchi had no reason to care about. God forbid he ever spoke to somebody he actually _liked_.

 

Yamaguchi grabbed Yachi’s arm, hoping the warmth of the café would excuse all the blood rushing to his face. “ _There_.”

 

Her eyes followed Yamaguchi’s, and when they fell upon the barista emerging from the door marked _Staff Only_ , her mouth opened in a small _oh_.

 

They watched as the barista tapped the shoulder of the woman on the till, exchanging a couple words with her before taking her place. His eyes glanced over the next few customers, gaze lingering on Yamaguchi for a moment longer than it should have. Maybe it was a sign of recognition, or at least, he hoped it was.

 

But recognition didn’t mean much, Yamaguchi reminded himself. He visited this coffee shop every day, more or less, so of course the barista recognised him. He kept a regular schedule, dropping in sometime after the end of his classes for the day but before he headed out to wait around on a draughty train station platform. He had gone out of his way to visit the café during the past couple weekends as well, even though he didn’t have any classes to be returning from. It was only a short train journey into town, after all, and well worth the pleasant atmosphere and the great coffee and –

 

-And, oh, who was he kidding?

 

It hadn’t escaped his notice that his schedule coincided, more often than not, with one of the café’s employees in particular. And as much as Yamaguchi avoided people, especially _attractive_ people, well…

 

He had thought he could handle it. He saw the barista – _Tsukishima Kei_ , according to his name badge – for no more than half an hour every day, and the only words they ever exchanged involved Yamaguchi’s coffee order, which never altered and so didn’t leave much room for Yamaguchi to mess up.

 

Yachi nudged him.

 

“Huh?” He looked down at her, then glanced up at the barista, who, oh crap, was giving him a _look_. It wasn’t angry – Yamaguchi had spent enough time watching Tsukishima while he worked to recognise the wrinkled nose and furrowed eyebrows that indicated a particularly annoying customer. No, this expression was irritatingly impassive. Probably just boredom.

 

“I, uh, I,” Yamaguchi stammered. Words. How did words work again? What did they want from him, oh crap, they were all looking at him and judging him and what the hell did they want?!

 

“Your order?” Tsukishima repeated with more patience than Yamaguchi would have expected.

 

“Oh, a, uh, c-caramel latte. Please. Thank you!” Yamaguchi’s stammering received no more than the slightest raise of an eyebrow, which was a lot better than the condescending pity Yamaguchi was used to receiving. He was probably used to Yamaguchi’s speech issues by now, maybe so accustomed to it he no longer noticed…

 

Yeah, Yamaguchi could dream.

 

Yachi managed to place her order without stammering or messing up, although Yamaguchi knew that she was just as nervous as him when it came to interaction, if not more so. They had met through a support group, after all, recommended to both of them by their university’s student services. There was comfort in finding somebody who shared his anxieties and experiences, and Yachi quickly became one of the select few to whom Yamaguchi could speak with any degree of comfort. Teaming up like this to handle tasks which were miniscule to others but daunting prospects to them worked out well for both. It was easier to be brave with a friend standing by, Yamaguchi found.

 

So when Yachi ordered her soy-milk latte with the slightest tremble creeping into her voice, Yamaguchi stepped forwards, letting his arm brush against hers in a small gesture of solidarity. When she held out the money to pay for the two drinks, there was a moment of hesitation on Tsukishima’s part before he took it. Yamaguchi followed the barista’s eyes to the point of contact between Yamaguchi and Yachi’s arms, but, as if he had read Yamaguchi’s mind, Tsukishima’s gaze snapped away.

 

They waited in silence for their drinks. The mysterious workings of the complex coffee machine, with its many levers and nozzles, was mesmerising enough on its own, but Yamaguchi found a particular private satisfaction in watching Tsukishima’s hands darting over it, back and forth, as if he were playing a musical instrument. The spectacle was short-lived, and soon those long, slender fingers were holding out two cardboard cups of steaming coffee in their direction.        

 

“Th-Thanks.” Yamaguchi took the drink. For a moment his hand brushed against Tsukishima’s, and his heart stuttered. He kept his eyes on his drink, not trusting himself to make eye-contact.

 

“Have a nice day,” Tsukishima said in a monotone. It ended the same way every day.

 

Yamaguchi tried to smile at him, but it probably looked more like a wince. And, just as he did every day, Tsukishima let the corner of his mouth twitch upwards, just for a second, before snapping his attention away as if wishing to bury the gesture.

 

In all the time he spent watching the barista, Yamaguchi had never seen him smile outside of that brief but unchanging moment. 

 

He let out a breath of air as he flopped down onto his usual seat, angled into the corner so he could enjoy people watching (barista watching) without having to worry about anyone being behind him. Yachi took the chair opposite him, checking over her shoulder to ensure that she wasn’t blocking his view of the till. She took a sip of her coffee, smiling at Yamaguchi over the brim with a coffee-froth moustache.

 

“So, uh, what do you think of him? Do you like him?” Yamaguchi asked hopefully as she wiped away the froth.

 

Yachi giggled. “It’s kinda hard to answer that when I don’t know anything about him. But you’re right, he’s pretty. In a kind of scary way.”

 

“But you think everyone looks scary!”

 

“Okay, but, like, he’s so tall! What if he doesn’t see me because I’m so small and he accidently tramples me and I die?! Hey, don’t laugh! It’s a serious concern!”    

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Yamaguchi snorted into his cup. “I’ll stand next to you all the time so he can’t miss you.” He hesitated. “But you like the look of him, right?”

 

Yachi nodded her head so hard her hairclips clicked against each other. “Yeah! I mean, I never figured you would go for the stoic type, but then I realised that it makes more sense because it’s, like, the opposite of you, so it fits.”

 

“Stoic?”

 

“Well, you know. He’s kinda grouchy-looking.”

 

Yamaguchi tried to protest, but another snort escaped him before he had the chance. “M-Maybe it’s just his resting face!” Yamaguchi giggled weakly.

 

There was a clatter from the table beside him. Loud enough to penetrate through the hubbub of the café, Yamaguchi glanced over, his heart freezing.

 

Having finished wiping down a table that in any reasonable world he would have no reason to be wiping, Tsukishima returned the tiny vase, home to a bright plastic flower, to its place with a rattle. For a second Yamaguchi’s brain short-circuited as he tried to understand – Tsukishima worked at the till! He always worked at the till! What was he doing there?!

 

Although his back was almost turned to them Yamaguchi could still see a downward curl in his lips and furrowed eyebrows that did little to distract from his reddened ears.

 

Yachi’s giggle faded away when she saw Yamaguchi’s face. When she followed his eyes to the subject of his gaze, she let out a small squeak.

 

They sat in ashen-faced silence until he moved away, treating the next table’s setting with no more delicacy than the last.

 

“Do you think he heard?” Yachi whispered.

 

Yamaguchi nodded, his throat dry. He was sure of it. He hadn’t seen his crush show any emotion other than apathy in weeks of covert observation, but that had _definitely_ been anger, and if there was one thing that would cause someone so composed to lose their cool, it would probably be overhearing…

 

But what _exactly_ had he overheard? How long had he been there?!

 

Yamaguchi ran through their conversation in his mind. Ok, so, at best he had heard them calling him grumpy. And laughing about it. Crap. At worst, he had heard everything. Which meant he knew about Yamaguchi’s crush, which meant that maybe he was angry because he was grossed out and super uncomfortable and about to file a lawsuit for workplace harassment. Yamaguchi was a penniless student! He couldn’t afford a lawyer!  

 

“Yamaguchi! Yamaguchi, snap out of it!” Yachi shook him by the shoulders.

 

“Oh, huh?” Yamaguchi blinked.

 

“You were all zoned out there! I thought you had gone into a coma and I was going to call an ambulance and-!”

 

“I’m not in a coma!” Yamaguchi exclaimed. Although, considering the level of panic he was feeling, a coma didn’t sound all that unpleasant. He just couldn’t understand why, that day _of all days,_ Tsukishima had decided to clean tables within earshot. He normally never left the counter!

 

Suddenly the panic surged in his chest, overwhelming him. “Yachi,” he gasped, “I’m – having – an - attack”.

 

The blood drained from Yachi’s face, but she was on her feet in an instant, steering him between tables and customers in the direction of the restroom. Yamaguchi’s breaths were leaving his chest in heavy, shaking gasps which drew stares from those that they passed. The feeling of eyes upon him only worsened the tightness in Yamaguchi’s chest, and by the time they burst through the door of the men’s room his eyes were watering.

 

The room was empty save for one man, who looked up from the sink, eyes widening when he saw Yachi.

 

“Get out!” She shrieked. Under any other circumstances Yamaguchi would have been shocked, but the only time Yachi would never shy away from shouting at strangers was when someone needed her help.

 

The man scurried out with a panicked glance over his shoulder. Yamaguchi closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms over his stomach.

 

“It’s okay, Yamaguchi. Remember what they taught us at the support group? Slow breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

 

Yamaguchi nodded, his nose scrunched up with the effort. The task felt near-impossible, but he did his best to slow his breathing, ignoring the trembling of his arms and the chills running up and down his body. He focused instead on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the feeling of Yachi’s hand on his shoulder. After what felt like an eternity – although in likelihood was probably a matter of minutes – he felt calm enough to open his eyes again. He gave Yachi a shaky smile.

 

“It’s – I’m – okay.” Yamaguchi stuttered at last. “Sorry about that.”

 

“You shouldn’t apologise!” Yachi pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “That looked really bad. Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Yeah, I just… I feel pretty drained now. That’s all.”

 

 “We should get you home! You can snuggle up in a pile of blankets with a hot chocolate and watch some TV. If you want. I mean, that’s just what I do when I, y’know. I mean, you don’t have to!”

 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll do that.”

 

The door to the bathroom swung open and the female staff member which Tsukishima had relieved appeared in the entrance. 

 

“I’ve had complaints of a girl in the men’s bathroom…?” She trailed off, pushing her glasses up her nose to fix Yachi with a raised eyebrow. Her long black hair swished around her shoulders and Yamaguchi felt very small under the scrutiny of her silver-grey eyes.

 

Yachi squeaked.

 

“Uh,” Yamaguchi began as Yachi flushed from head to toe, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. “We’re sorry!”

 

He grabbed Yachi by the hand and yanked her from the room before she could implode. When they returned to their table they found their drinks where they had left them, now cold. Tsukishima was still wiping down tables, and his back remained turned to them as they left.  

 

They walked to the station together, each in their own cloud of despair.

 

“I can never go in there again,” Yamaguchi groaned. “That barista must hate me now. And I made an idiot of myself.”

 

“I can’t go back either.” Yachi hiccupped. “I shouted at a customer and that pretty lady thinks I’m some kind of crazy pervert!”

 

“You thought she was pretty?”

 

Yachi stopped short in the street. Then she groaned. “Oh no.”

 

Their conversation for the rest of the trip was muted, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.

 

***

 

Yamaguchi didn’t return to the café for a week.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. No matter how badly he had messed up, the compulsion to return for a cup of coffee and the sight of his favourite barista going about his business was strong. But as soon as the front door came into sight his heart clenched in his chest and his step faltered. At the last moment his feet would change direction and take him to the train station, where he waited, shivering, on an empty platform for a train that wouldn’t come until he had frozen to the bone.

 

On the eighth day, heavy black storm clouds drew over the sky like a blanket, and by the time Yamaguchi left the campus rain was hailing down upon the city. Waiting on a platform was unthinkable, and the rain had already soaked through Yamaguchi’s thin jacket, leaving his hair plastered to his head and his teeth chattering. Yet even in the onslaught of the rain, his feet hesitated at the door to the coffee shop.

 

A low roll of thunder shook the air, followed by a flash of lightening which made Yamaguchi gasp for breath as he felt the static sizzle through the air. It was the final straw, and he scurried into the café before he could think better of it.

 

It was like stepping into a sauna, and Yamaguchi shrugged off his drenched coat with a sigh of relief. The café was bright, packed full of sheltering students, the windows fogged up and the air full of chatter. The rain clawed and hammered the glass, but Yamaguchi smiled, safe in the knowledge that he was securely indoors.

 

Then he turned to see Tsukishima, and his newfound sense of security abandoned him at the speed of the lightning which flashed outside.

 

He joined the queue, his shoes squeaking on the polished floor as he left a watery trail behind him.

 

The staff bustled frantically from place to place as they tried to cope with the influx of rain-drenched customers, and even Tsukishima looked ruffled as Yamaguchi approached the counter.

 

“Hello, how can I…” He looked up, and stopped short. The chaos of the rush hour no longer seemed to bother him, and for a moment he only stared. “…help you?”

 

“A – A – A Caramel latte. Please!” Yamaguchi hoped Tsukishima would blame the weather for his chattering teeth. If he noticed any more nerves than usual, he gave no indication. He turned to the machine, and Yamaguchi took a moment to appreciate what he had so sorely missed – the angular jawline, the sharp gaze, and the hands that were surprisingly delicate in their work considering the temperament of their owner. At least he didn’t look angry, and Yamaguchi dared to hope that he had forgotten about the events of the previous week, or maybe hadn’t overheard the conversation after all.    

 

Yamaguchi was so caught up in his elation that he didn’t hear Tsukishima speak as he rung up his order.

 

“Your girlfriend was here earlier.”

 

“Huh, what?” Yamaguchi jerked to attention.

 

“Your girlfriend. She was in here around lunchtime. She asked my co-worker if you had stopped by lately.” He held out his hand for the money which Yamaguchi had clutched in a sweaty hand.

 

“I, Uh.” Yamaguchi’s mind blanked. This wasn’t how it went! Tsukishima had gone off-script! What was Yamaguchi supposed to say?! “Uh…uh…girlfriend?”

 

“Yes.” Tsukishima brow creased a little, and he spoke slowly as if addressing a small child. “She asked after you. Apparently.” He pushed his glasses up his nose.

 

“I – She’s – We’re gay!” Yamaguchi yelped. The back of his neck burned as he felt the gaze of surrounding customers upon him. Maybe he had been a little loud.

 

He risked a glance at the barista.

 

“Oh. Sorry,” Tsukishima deadpanned. His eyes met Yamaguchi’s, and Yamaguchi shivered under the gaze which was far more searching than he was accustomed to. Yamaguchi swiped dripping strands of hair from his eyes and shrugged, a timid smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

“No worries.”

 

The man in the queue behind him coughed loudly and Yamaguchi jumped. Tsukishima sent the customer a scathing look before turning back to him, drink in hand. Yamaguchi took it, and for a moment they returned to the script, with the slight brush of their hands, the stutter of his heart, the momentary upward quirk of Tsukishima’s lips-

 

-and then the coffee slipped through his sweat-slicked hands and dropped onto the counter, spilling scalding liquid across the surface, across Yamaguchi, but worst of all, across Tsukishima.

 

Yamaguchi yelped, almost muffling Tsukishima’s gasp of pain. The dark-haired barista was on the scene before either of them could even blink.

 

“I got this. You two, go to the bathroom and make sure you haven’t been scalded.” She produced a dishcloth and began wiping down the surface, the authority in her voice proving beyond doubt her worthiness of the shining _Manager_ badge pinned to her uniform.

 

Tsukki rounded the bar with a scowl, taking Yamaguchi by the arm and leading him into the bathroom. Once there, he turned the cold tap on at full blast before turning back to Yamaguchi.

 

“Uh…” Yamaguchi began.

 

“Hold your hands under the water.”

 

“No, I – I’m fine! Not scalded, look!” He held out his hands for Tsukishima’s inspection.

 

Tsukishima took his hands (enough by itself to give Yamaguchi a heart attack) and thrust them under the icy water before he could react. “Health and safety regulations,” he said by way of explanation. He turned to the next sink along and turned the tap on, placing his hands in the water with a grimace.

 

“It’s freezing!” Yamaguchi complained with a wince.

 

“Yeah, obviously.” Tsukishima spoke through gritted teeth.

 

“Can’t I use a warm tap?”

 

“No. It doesn’t work as well.” He paused. “Sorry.”    

 

“N-No, I should be sorry, it’s my fault.” Yamaguchi hiccupped as he felt the familiar pinch in his lungs. No, no, please not now, not in front of the cute barista…

 

“It was an accident.” Tsukishima turned his hands over, clenching and unclenching them in the stream of the water. “It happens all the time.”

 

“Okay.” Yamaguchi breathed a sigh of relief. They stood in silence for a few seconds. Yamaguchi wiggled his fingers, but despite his efforts his hand remained completely numb.

 

The tap squeaked as Tsukishima shut it off. Yamaguchi copied him, hands slipping and fumbling against the metal. He shook his hand dry, showering Tsukishima with droplets of water.

 

Tsukishima waved his apologies away as he removed his glasses, wiping them on the hem of his apron. His looked different without his glasses; Yamaguchi scrutinised his face, picking out the individual slivers of gold hidden in his amber eyes.

 

“That feels a lot better. So, uh, thanks.” Yamaguchi scratched the back of his head, vulnerable under Tsukishima’s bare gaze.

 

Tsukishima slipped his glasses back into place. “Do you mind if I check?”

 

“Huh? Check?”

 

“Your hand.”

 

“Oh! No, not at all…” Yamaguchi held his hand out. The flush creeping up his neck matched the pink skin of his hand, still clammy and cold and not something Tsukishima would want to be-

 

-holding! He was holding Yamaguchi’s hand!

 

Yamaguchi could have passed out on the spot. The only reason he didn’t was the threat of the further humiliation this was bound to cause. Nevertheless breathing had never been more difficult as he watched Tsukishima turn his hand over and study it, as he felt the warm contact of their skin.

 

“So,” Tsukishima began in a tight voice, “if you don’t have a girlfriend…do you have a boyfriend?” He kept his eyes fixed on the contours of Yamaguchi’s hand, but his ears looked a few shades darker than the rest of him.

 

A sound between a squeak and a cough left Yamaguchi’s throat. “Uh – uh – a boyfriend? I have, um, friends, who are… are boys, uh, sure!”  

 

“I meant, like…” He paused, turning Yamaguchi’s and back over in what had to be the world’s most thorough hand examination. “…dating. Are you?” His question came out rushed and he bit his lip at the end as though irritated with himself.

 

Panic bubbled up in Yamaguchi’s chest, clawing up into his throat where it crushed his windpipe almost beyond use. “I, uh, uh… N-No.”

 

“Oh.” Tsukishima released Yamaguchi’s hand. “You’re fine. I mean, your hand. Your hand’s fine.” Yamaguchi inspected it for himself, the ghost of Tsukishima’s touch tingling across his skin. For a moment his breathing calmed before Tsukishima’s next words snapped him back to the present.

 

“So, maybe… You and I… We could go on a date sometime. If you want. If you don’t think I’m too “grouchy-looking”, that is.” He scuffed a floor tile with his foot.

 

To say that Yamaguchi freaked would be an understatement. In the space of two seconds he felt himself go so far beyond panic that he looped back around into a bizarre state of calm. A far-away voice that was in no way connected to Yamaguchi’s mind piped up. “You _are_ quite grouchy-looking.”

 

Tsukishima’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. Yamaguchi couldn’t blame him – he was just as surprised by his words.

 

“I don’t know why I said that.” Yamaguchi held his hands out in front of him as though they did not belong to him. “I think I have to leave right now, immediately. Bye.” Legs that were not his turned Yamaguchi away from Tsukishima’s astonishment and carried him out via the swing-door, through the café and back onto the street.

 

The rain still hammered down, yet Yamaguchi felt no urge to pull on his jacket. In fact, he felt no urge to do anything, really.

 

Instinct told him that sooner or later this numbness would wear off. Yamaguchi didn’t want to think about what would happen when it did.

 

He fumbled for his phone, pulling it out of his drenched jacket pocket with trembling fingers. Any other model would be throwing off sparks with the amount of water it had been exposed to, but there were some advantages to having a phone both old and hardy enough to have survived the Jurassic era. He squinted at the tiny LED screen which was flecked with droplets of rain and selected Yachi’s number.

 

Her answering machine invited him to leave a message with a promise to return his call.

 

“Hey, Yachi. The barista asked me out and I told him he had a grouchy face and then I left without answering and I’m okay right now but I’ll probably be freaking out later, bye.” Yamaguchi pressed the _end call_ button, catching his breath. He hadn’t been speaking _that_ quickly, had he? Oh. Oh dear.

 

Hearing himself describing the situation in his own voice was what finally brought him back.

 

There were words for the emotions Yamaguchi felt in that moment, but he would have to find them later. For now, he was heading home before his day could find a way of getting worse.

 

***

 

The next day the weather cleared up and the sun beat down on the glistening pavements as if making up for the previous day’s temper tantrum. Yamaguchi loped down the library steps, arms piled high with folders and books. The happenings of the previous day were behind him, for now at least. If keeping calm meant refusing to even think about the café (about _him_ ) then Yamaguchi was happy to find other things to occupy his mind with. Namely the growling of his stomach and the heavy pile of books in his arms waiting to be read.

 

His lunchtime plans were interrupted when he was assaulted on the bottom step.

 

“YAMAGUCHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

 

Yamaguchi yelped as the tiny blonde blur collided with him, sending his books and folders tumbling to the ground.

 

“Y-Yachi?!”

 

“Oh no, your books, I’m sorry!” Yachi bent down beside Yamaguchi to help scoop up his positions. She brushed the gravel from a particularly heavy volume before handing it to him.

 

“Uh, it’s okay.” Yamaguchi straightened, the pile wobbling in his arms. “Uh, why did you tackle me?”

 

“Oh, no reason! No reason at all!” Yachi held her hands behind her back as she shifted from foot to foot. Her eyes swerved off to the side, and warning alarms began to trill in Yamaguchi’s mind.

 

“What’s going on, Yachi?”

 

“Huh? Nothing!”

 

He narrowed his eyes. “You have your fingers crossed behind your back, don’t you?”

 

Yachi yelped, bringing her arms to her front and crossing them over her chest. “You can’t prove that!”

 

“Is this about last night?” Yamaguchi hugged the books tightly against his chest. He had been hoping to avoid further discussion of his idiocy, but apparently the universe wasn’t letting him get away with it. The previous evening Yachi had returned his call in a matter of minutes, sounding almost as panicked as he was. After calming each other down the story came out in bits and pieces until Yachi was fully updated; he had believed her condolences to be the end of the matter. Apparently not.

 

“Maybe. But not in a bad way! In a helping-you way!”

 

“Helping me?” Yamaguchi took a step back. “There’s no way of helping, Yachi. I ran away. Insulting him in the process. No more café for me, no more cute barista. That’s the end of it.”

 

Yachi pressed her lips together. “Unless…”

 

“No! No unless! I messed up, just like I always do, Yachi, so don’t try to…” Yamaguchi broke off as all the air left his lungs in one fell swoop. He looked to the floor, no longer trusting himself to speak.

 

Yachi took the pile of books from Yamaguchi’s arms and slid them into her bag.

 

“Thanks,” Yamaguchi murmured. He let his hands drop to his sides in relief. The books had been heavier than he had realised.

 

Yachi slung the bag over her back as though it were weightless with determination in her eyes. Yamaguchi resisted the urge to take another step back.

 

“Do you trust me, Yamaguchi?”

 

Yamaguchi bit his lip, but nodded all the same.

 

She held out her hand. “Then come with me.”

 

Yamaguchi took it, and she began to lead him, little to Yamaguchi’s surprise but much to his panic, in the direction of the café.      

 

Yamaguchi hoped she knew what she was doing.

 

***

 

Tsukishima wasn’t at the till when they arrived. Yamaguchi wanted to smack himself, because _of course_. Yamaguchi never usually visited during lunch hours so he had no idea how Tsukishima’s shifts worked around that time of day. Maybe he didn’t arrive until later on – but then why would Yachi insist on bringing him here? Or was it deliberate?

 

His suspicions grew when he recognised the woman working on the till.

 

Yachi waved, a grin spreading over her face. She received a subtle smile and a nod in return, before the manager had to return her attention to the customers awaiting their orders. The café was a lot quieter than it was later on, with only a couple people waiting to be served and one or two sitting reading as they drank.

 

“Yachi.” Yamaguchi blinked a few times before continuing. “When did you-?”

 

“I might have come in here a couple times after you showed me the place, and she was serving me, so…”

 

“She gave you her number?!”

 

“Actually.” Yachi beamed, chin held high. “I gave her _mine_.”  

 

“Damnit,” Yamaguchi said as they joined the line. “You’re secretly really smooth, aren’t you?”

 

Yachi shook her head. “I nearly fainted! But I was lucky, and she…she…” Yachi’s eyes glazed over. “…so pretty…”  

 

“Yachi, come back!” Yamaguchi snapped his fingers in front of her eyes.

 

“Oh, right, so.” Yachi blinked back to life. “So we’ve been talking and texting and all sorts, it’s been really great!”

 

“So what is this, a demonstration of a successful and functioning relationship? Because I’m not good at those, Yachi, I never will be.”

 

“Well, we disagree with you.” The queue moved forwards, the pair along with it.

 

“…we?”

 

“Kiyoko and I. See, she knows your barista – Tsukishima, right? – really well, and I know you really well, so-!”

 

“Y-You were talking about me with her! Yachi, I can’t _believe-_ ” The pair in front of them moved off, and the words died in his throat.

 

The manager regarded him over the rim of her spectacles with piercing grey eyes. Yamaguchi shrank back from her gaze as Yachi introduced him and made their orders.

 

“Nice to meet you.” Kiyoko smiled, and for a moment Yamaguchi let himself relax. It was not to last. “You’ve made quite an impression on Tsukishima.” She turned to the coffee machine and began sorting their drinks, turning towards them as she worked to indicate that she was still listening.

 

“I – Um – I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

 

Kiyoko laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Yamaguchi snuck a glance at Yachi, who was watching Kiyoko’s every move with star-struck wonder.

 

 “I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Kiyoko continued over the whirr of the machine. “He’s normally so distant, so it’s nice to see him taking an interest in someone.”   

 

“I…” Yamaguchi clenched his fists. “I – It’s not that I don’t like him. I do.” He took a deep breath, and Kiyoko glanced up at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “I just wish… I just wish he’d taken interest in someone _better_. I’m no good at talking or dating or – or anything!”

 

Kiyoko raised an eyebrow. She pressed plastic lids over the two cardboard cups. “Do you want to know a secret, Yamaguchi?” She leaned forwards, pushing the cups out towards them. Yamaguchi bent forwards despite himself.

 

“What?”

 

“Neither is he.” She smiled again, mischief sparkling behind her eyes. “Good luck.”

 

“Uh, what…?”

 

Beside him, Yachi giggled. “Didn’t you see?”

 

“See _what_?”

 

“Your usual table! Look!”

 

Yamaguchi turned. There, back facing him, in the seat opposite where Yamaguchi usually sat, absorbed in a book, absent-mindedly stirring his tea…

 

“Oh, no. Oh my God, no, what are you guys…” Yamaguchi tried to turn towards the door, but Yachi grabbed his arm in an iron grip.

 

“Yamaguchi, it’s fine!”

 

“If it helps, I don’t think he saw you come in.” Kiyoko nudged her glasses up her nose. “He’s on his break at the moment. Yachi and I thought you might want to talk to him while he’s not working. And explain why you…” she crinkled her nose as if still in disbelief. “…insulted his face?”

 

“Oh man. Oh no. I’ll mess up, _again_.”

 

“Yamaguchi,” Kiyoko began, voice firm. “Right now, Tsukishima thinks he’s the one who messed up. I may not know you all that well, but I know Tsukishima. I know he’s frustrated with himself, and I know that you’re the only person in a position to fix that. So please. As a favour to me. Could you talk to him?”

 

Yamaguchi looked across the room to where Tsukishima sat. Sunlight fell across his table, glinting off the metal of his teaspoon and illuminating his hair so brightly it glowed. Sunbeams floated around him in the lazy midday warmth.

 

 He turned back to Kiyoko and Yachi. Yachi had her hands clasped in front of her as if on the brink of pleading as she rocked from foot to foot; Kiyoko, on the other hand, remained still, expression neutral, waiting.

 

Yamaguchi picked up his drink, removing the lid in order to stare into the swirling brown liquid inside. He answered them at last in a whisper, “Okay.”

 

Yachi punched the air with one hand and clamped the other over her mouth to hold back a squeal. Kiyoko watched her with warm amusement, her head tilted, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

 

“Go on, then!” Yachi turned and pushed him towards the table. “Before you change your mind!”

 

Yamaguchi took her advice, tripping over his own feet with nerves. He pushed past a chair and winced as its feet screeched against the floor. Thankfully, Tsukishima didn’t turn around.

 

After what felt like an eternity, Yamaguchi was standing behind Tsukishima at last. He hovered practically at his shoulder, now close enough to smell the gentle waft of tea which clouded the table and close enough to read the book from over his shoulder, some kind of archaeology text with diagrams of fossils and grainy pictures of dig sites. It was baffling to Yamaguchi, but seemed to have its reader enthralled. He took a further moment to note the remains of a sandwich and a strawberry shortcake which lay half-eaten. Tsukishima moved suddenly, and Yamaguchi jumped back in panic. But it was only to break off another piece with his fork and swallow it. He turned onto a new chapter, chewing, and flicked a stray crumb from the page with a huff.

 

Yamaguchi realised that he had now been waiting at Tsukishima’s shoulder for longer than could be deemed reasonable. He hoped Kiyoko and Yachi weren’t watching, and a flicker of his eyes confirmed that they were now absorbed in a conversation of their own, Yachi’s elbows resting on the counter as she smiled and a faint blush spreading over Kiyoko’s cheeks. They were both too wrapped up in their own conversation to pay him any mind – or at least, they were pretending to be for his benefit.

 

Yamaguchi turned back to the still-oblivious Tsukishima. What was he going to do?! How could he introduce himself without it looking as though Yamaguchi had snuck up on him, which, in all truthfulness, was exactly what he had done?

 

The panic surged.

 

Yamaguchi let out a long, slow breath, heavy enough to shift a few strands of Tsukishima’s hair. He clamped a hand down over his mouth, yet still Tsukishima didn’t turn around. Yamaguchi wasn’t sure if this was a run of good luck or bad; embarrassment was avoided but the torture was prolonged.

 

His nerves snapped. Loudly, deliberately, he cleared his throat.

 

No reaction.

 

He coughed once, then once more, louder.

 

No reaction.

 

“Excuse me!” Yamaguchi exclaimed.

 

Nothing.

 

He tilted his head to the side and caught sight of a white wire leading up the side of Tsukishima’s head and connecting to his…

 

…earphones. Oh.

 

Yamaguchi stepped into Tsukishima’s eyeline. When the barista’s gaze failed to move from his book, Yamaguchi tried to bob up and down, hoping movement in his peripheral vision might draw his gaze. _Still_ nothing.

 

Yamaguchi sighed. There was only one thing for it.

 

He slammed his cup down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery, causing the liquid to slosh around inside. Tsukishima’s head snapped up, irritation washing away into surprise.

 

“I-Is this seat taken?!” Yamaguchi forced the words from his mouth despite Tsukishima’s gape.

 

Tsukishima shook his head, eyes wide. Yamaguchi dropped into his usual chair before his legs got the chance to fold beneath him. Tsukishima pulled out his earphones, winding them up carefully before slipping them into his pocket. He didn’t take his eyes off Yamaguchi.

 

“So, uh…” Yamaguchi pulled the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands. “…hello?”

 

“Hi.” Tsukishima sat as though he had a ruler attached to his spine, his shoulders tensed and his arms at his sides.    

 

For a moment neither of them spoke, only looked at each other with varying degrees of alarm.

 

“I’m sorry-” they both began at once.

 

Tsukishima flushed red, and Yamaguchi couldn’t hold back the chuckle which bubbled up from his throat.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tsukishima began again, sending Yamaguchi a half-frown as he tried to quash his giggles. “I shouldn’t have asked you on a date. It was unprofessional and I made you uncomfortable.” He scowled down at his lap.

 

“No!” Yamaguchi pulled his mouth into a straight line as all traces of humour vanished. “No, I’m sorry. I really would like to go out with you.” His words brought Tsukishima’s eyes back up until they met his. “I – I mean, I would, I just… panicked. I always panic. I’m sorry, I just can’t – I’m terrible with people. All of them. I freak out and say something rude and…” Yamaguchi let out a shaky breath. “Trust me, you don’t want to date me. I’m the worst.”

 

Tsukishima tilted his head to one side, expression unreadable.

 

“W-What is it?!”

 

Tsukishima shook his head. “You’re not terrible with people. _I’m_ terrible with people.”

 

“Geh?!”

 

“I’m rude. I’m spiteful. I’m cruel and self-centred. I provoke and aggravate people until they leave me alone.”

 

Yamaguchi clutched his cup to his chest. “On purpose?! But why?!”

 

Tsukishima shrugged, eyes sliding off to the side. “Mostly because they annoy me. But also because it’s easier, I guess. Than trying to understand them.” He pushed his glasses up his nose with another shrug.

 

“But if people annoy you, then why – why…” Yamaguchi trailed off under Tsukishima’s stare. “…why me?”

 

Tsukishima’s gaze dropped to the table. The tips of his ears reddened. “…you don’t seem that annoying,” he mumbled, “and… I guess… because you smile?”

 

“What? Everyone smiles!”

 

“Yeah, well, your smile is, um…” He thumbed the pages of his book through his fingers. “…cute.”

 

Yamaguchi snorted before he could stop himself. “Aw!”

 

“Shut up! I didn’t say that!”

 

“Sorry!” Yamaguchi wheezed, but the giggles kept coming. “Oh my god! I’m sorry, I can’t stop-!” His laughter turned into a coughing fit and Tsukishima leaned across to clap him on the back. His arm caught Yamaguchi’s coffee, and for a second it wobbled before toppling.

 

For the second time that week, they were both covered in hot coffee.

 

Thankfully, this time, Yamaguchi knew what to do.

 

***

 

The best thing – but also the worst thing – about having a barista for a boyfriend is the coffee. Now he has at least three cups a day – one in the morning that Tsukishima makes for him just as he’s blinking the sleep from his eyes, and a couple more in the afternoon when he drops in during Tsukishima’s shift. He sits in the same chair every day and does his studies, watching from his perfect spot while Tsukishima goes about his work. At the end of Tsukishima’s shift they catch the train home together, and sometimes Tsukishima’s head will drop down on Yamaguchi’s shoulder and stay there as he dozes through the bumping and jostling of the train.

 

The disadvantage to having this much coffee: Yamaguchi can never get to sleep at night.

 

Thankfully, having a boyfriend now means that this isn't a problem.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!!  
> This felt... a little different to how I usually write? Maybe it's all in my head...  
> Either way, please let me know what you thought!
> 
> Many happy returns to the recipients of this fic, BlackSoulStar and TheAnimeZankyou :D


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